


I am just a broken dream

by tigriswolf



Series: Alternate Universe [14]
Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Death, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-08
Updated: 2011-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:55:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigriswolf/pseuds/tigriswolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They took Ben just after his eighth birthday. Mom fought, but the last Ben saw of her, she’d fallen to her knees, a gun to her head.  AU after season 3 of Supernatural.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: I am just a broken dream  
> Chapter: i  
> Fandom: “Supernatural”/“Dark Angel” crossover  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dolly Parton.  
> Warnings: AU after season three for “Supernatural”  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 2935  
> Point of view: third

They took Ben just after his eighth birthday. Mom fought, but the last Ben saw of her, she’d fallen to her knees, a gun to her head.

 _I love you_ , her lips said, and then she jerked, half her head gone, blood and brain everywhere.

Ben shut down. He let them do what they wanted, while in a far corner of his mind he sobbed for his mother, he cried for Dean to come save him again.

He woke in a hospital. “Welcome back, 493,” a cold man in a suit said.

Ben didn’t respond. A savagery he’d never felt before was swirling in him. Rage choked him. If he hadn’t been strapped down, he knew he’d have gone for the man’s throat.

“You’ll spend some time in Psy-Ops to make sure the Braedon woman hasn’t ruined you, then we’ll put you with a unit.” The man stared at him, waiting. When Ben didn’t speak, he demanded, “493, do you understand?”

“I want my mom,” Ben said. “I want my mom _right now_!”

The man glared. “You don’t have a mother, 493. You don’t have a father. The Braedon woman stole you—you’re our property and we paid a good deal of money to make you.”

Ben decided he was done and went back into his mind. Of course he had parents. His mom was Lisa Braedon and his dad—his dad was Dean Winchester, who had saved him from monsters.

He didn’t know how long passed, but he buried himself deep, where the outside world couldn’t touch. He was Ben Braedon, son of Lisa and Dean, and no one could control him.

They broke him anyway, the doctors with cold hands and sharp knives. They cut him open and ripped him apart and then sewed him back together as their good little soldier.

“Who are you?” the cold man asked, and something stirred deep in his mind, but he answered, “I am X5-493.”

The man smiled. “Do you have parents?”

“No, sir.”

The man was smugly satisfied. “Watch him for a week. If nothing changes, put him with a unit.”

He dreamed of a woman with kind eyes and dark hair and a smile that made him happy. He dreamed of a man with gentle hands and strong shoulders, who kept him safe.

When they placed him with other soldiers, 493 kept to himself. The others had been together for a long time and they watched him warily. Days passed. He trained with them, ate with them, and slept with them.

Finally, one of the females, 452, said, “I’m Max.” She introduced the rest of them and asked, “What do you wanna be called?”

A few of the others tossed out names and words, but he said softly, “Ben.” He didn’t know why, but something deep inside purred.

Ben found a place in the unit as the storyteller. For some reason, his imagination was better than anyone else’s in the unit. He told them about monsters, nomlies in the basement. He told them of the Blue Lady, with kind eyes and dark hair. He told them about a man, the Hunter, who saved children from the evil night.

It was Ben’s idea to leave. He knew there was something better out there, a place of safety and happiness.

They got separated, of course, and went to ground. Ben kept moving east, drawn by something he couldn’t explain. He avoided people, scavenged or hunted for food, slept in the trees. He double-backed and took scenic routes, constantly checked over his shoulder. No one followed him.

The further away he got, the more he remembered. Mom, birthday parties, chocolate, TV. Freedom to choose.

That last day haunted him, Mom crying and screaming, her blood—the cold man with the gun.

Ben doubled over, tears on his face, as he remembered everything. Over a year since they took him, since he became 493 only to become Ben again. Over a year since he locked everything deep inside, Mom and who Ben was, and Dean Winchester.

He started running, quit covering his tracks. Maybe his memory lied. Maybe Mom wasn’t dead.

The day after Ben got to Cicero, Indiana, the Pulse happened. The world went crazy and Ben watched from high up in a tree half a block from his old house as people rioted. Once they’d exhausted themselves and gone home, he dropped to the ground and padded to his house. It stood empty and dark, and he smelled dried blood. He paused in the doorway, hesitant now that he’d finally arrived.

Mom really was dead. Gone. Over a year ago while Ben just stood there.

He heard someone move inside the house. Someone in his _mother’s house_. He snarled and rushed in, teeth bared. Up the stairs, down the hall, into his mother’s room—two bodies on the bed, breathing in tandem, and a gun pointed at him.

“Be quiet,” the man holding the gun said. “You’ll wake him.”

Ben stopped. Stared. “Winchester,” he whispered.

The man cocked his head to the side, but the gun didn’t waver. “Ben Braedon?” he asked.

Ben nodded. “You’re in my house,” he said.

The other man—DeanDean _Dean_ —stirred and slowly rolled over, sitting up with great care. Ben smelled old blood again.

“Is he alright?” Ben asked, stepping forward. Dean’s brother—if Ben remembered right—lowered the gun to support Dean.

“Hey, I got you,” Dean’s brother murmured. “I’m here, Dean. It’s Sammy.”

Ben padded over to the bed in time to see Dean’s eyes blink open. “Sammy?” he muttered.

Sam, that was right. Sam. Ben remembered him as large and competent, always in the background. Quiet. Kept to himself, but carried two kids at a time to the car.

Dean’s eyes widened when he focused on Ben and he shied away, curling into Sam. His breathing quickened, so shallow Ben thought he’d pass out.

“What happened?” he asked at the same time Sam commanded, “Back up.”

Ben did on reflex. No one at Manticore ever sounded so dangerous.

“Dean, Dean, he’s out of reach now. He’s just a boy, Dean; he’s just Ben Braedon. Remember him?” Sam’s voice was so gentle, so calm, Ben felt soothed himself. “Dean, can you look at me?”  
Slowly, Dean raised his head, fingers clenched around Sam’s arm. This man was not the Dean he had known, so bright and alive. He’d broken somehow.

“Ben,” Sam whispered, turning his head a little. “Back up some more.” Ben did and Sam kept petting Dean’s back, murmuring something Ben heard but couldn’t understand.

Ben sank down against the wall, wrapping his arms around his knees. He lost Mom over a year ago. How long was he inside his head, getting ripped part? Ben still didn’t know.

Mom was stolen, but here he found Dean again. And he was not just Ben Braedon anymore. He was X5-493, a soldier. He couldn’t protect Mom, and somehow Dean got shattered, too. But Ben found him again and now Ben would take care of him.

“If there anything I can do?” Ben asked softly, studying Dean’s face—he looked pale, sunken-in, smelled like blood and pain and fire.

“There’s water in a cooler downstairs,” Sam said, cradling Dean. “Please.”

Ben crawled out of the room and then raced down the stairs, taking five steps at a time. He grabbed the whole cooler and carried it back up. While he’d been gone, Sam had stretched Dean out and stripped him. Dean’s body was far slighter than Ben remembered; he looked starved. And he was covered in scars. Ben could name which weapon gave them all.

“Water,” Sam said, staring at Dean, running his hands along Dean’s skin slowly and with great care. Ben dug into the cooler; it was full of water bottles, lunchmeat, cheese, and juice boxes. He grabbed a bottle and walked over to Sam.

Dean’s eyes were closed, his breathing deep. “Open it,” Sam murmured and Ben twisted the top off. “Pour some onto his chest. Just a little.”

Ben did, carefully, and the instant Sam opened his mouth, Ben stopped.

Whimpering, Dean jerked as the cool water touched his skin, but Sam’s hands were there, spreading the liquid out, making soothing noises, and Dean calmed. “Place the bottle on the table,” Sam said, that same soothing lilt in his voice. “And make a sandwich outta the ham and cheese.”

“Is there bread?” Ben asked, following Sam’s commands.

“Doesn’t matter.” Sam turned Dean over and repeated the bath on his back. “But, yeah, I think there is. I stocked up two days ago, before all the craziness.”

Ben nodded and returned to downstairs. Before Manticore, he’d never noticed just how good his eyesight was; he’d figured everyone could see like a cat. No power meant the house was as dark as a forest away from Sam’s lantern, since the moon was just a sliver in the sky, but that didn’t slow him down at all. He found a loaf of bread, smelled it to make sure it wasn’t moldy, and brought it back up to Sam.

Sam had Dean sitting up against the headboard, a blanket draped over his shoulder and around his waist. Sam was next to him, holding the bottle of water to his mouth. Ben quickly assembled sandwiches and slowly brought it over to Sam, making sure to stay as far from Dean as possible. Sam took them with one hand while lowering the bottle. Ben waited till Sam nodded his thanks before backing away.

Dean’s eyes tracked Ben but he didn’t react this time. Sam ripped a corner off the first sandwich and held it up to Dean’s mouth. Ben settled against the far wall and lowered his head onto his arms, making himself small. He closed his eyes, listening to Sam feed Dean.

Ben had no idea what happened to the strong, sure man in his memory. Dean had been so bright. A little more than year—everything changed so much. Mom, Ben himself, the world. And Dean.

“Enough,” Dean muttered and Ben looked up. Half the sandwich and the entire bottled water gone, and Dean’s eyes mostly closed.

Sam slightly jerked his head. Ben smoothly rose to his feet and padded over, gathered up the uneaten sandwiches. He took them back to his spot and ate most of them in huge gulps. When he finished, Dean was under the covers, either asleep or almost, and Sam was watching him.

“I visited two months ago,” Sam said quietly. “Your mother was dead and you were missing.” He slipped off the bed and stretched. “I needed a place, Ben. I didn’t go looking.” He met Ben’s eyes and turned down the lantern before striding over to hold out a hand. “I felt bad about it, but I didn’t have the time.”

Ben let Sam pull him up. “You can stay here,” he said, knowing his permission didn’t matter.

Sam huffed a laugh. “Thanks.” He rubbed at his eyes. “You should go on to bed,” he said. “While he’s asleep, I’m gonna check the perimeter.”

“I’m not tired,” Ben told him. “I’ll keep watch.”

Sam studied him for a long moment. In the darkness of the room, Ben saw clearly, and he got the feeling Sam saw just fine, too.

No normal person could, so what did that mean?

“If he wakes up,” Sam said, “don’t touch him. Just speak softly. Try to keep him calm, but don’t touch him.”

Ben nodded his understanding and Sam strode out the door. Immediately, he popped back in to say, “If you can’t help touching him, stay where he can see you.” Then he was gone for real.

With nothing to occupy his time but a sleeping man, Ben thought about his unit. His siblings. Had they been his family, or just a group of kids Manticore threw him into? Did he love them like he loved Mom? Did he miss them with the same sharp, throbbing ache?

On the bed, Dean thrashed and keened. Ben hurried to him, reaching out to soothe with his hands, like he’d watched Sam do, then remembered Sam’s orders to not touch. Dean trembled beneath the blankets, hands clutching for something—Sam, Ben guessed.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, balancing on the edge of the bed. “Dean, Sam’ll be back soon, I promise.”

Dean’s eyes shot open and Ben shied away from the pure white, so bright in the dark it made him flinch. As Ben scurried out of reach, Dean sat up, pupil-less eyes watching him.

 _Dangerdangerdanger,_ Ben’s instincts screamed. _Get out, get away, runrunflee!_

He froze, didn’t breathe. Eyes on the predator. He could make it to the door, maybe. But Dean was unknown, clearly not human. He still smelled of blood and fire and pain, but anger had joined the scent.

“Who are you?” Dean demanded. Even shirtless, wrapped in a thick blanket, ribs sharp, he was so obviously a threat that Ben wondered about the weakness he’d seen before.

Ben was very glad he hadn’t touched Dean.

“I’m Ben Braedon,” he answered. “You saved me from—changelings, I think you called them. You told me to kick Ryan Humphries in the gnads after he stole my game. My mom kissed you goodbye.” He blinked back the tears. He would not show weakness in front of a predator.

Dean slumped down, eyes darkening back to hazel. “Ben Braedon,” he repeated. “Lisa.”

Ben heard Sam on the stairs but didn’t react. “Lisa was my mom,” he said. “She died a few weeks after you left.”

Sam walked in, pausing. Ben kept still, crouched on the floor. “Dean,” Sam called softly. “Dean, it’s okay. He’s a—friend. Ben is a friend of ours. Not a threat.”

Dean scoffed, throwing himself backwards and burrowing under the blanket. “Know that, Sammy,” he muttered. “Not stupid.”

Ben breathed out in relief. He glared up at Sam, who once again offered a hand. Ben ignored it this time, lunging up. “Tell me,” he hissed. “What happened?”

Sam nodded. “In the hall,” he murmured. “I’ll be close enough to keep him calm.”

Leaning against the wall, a stone’s-throw from his old room, Ben watched Sam pace. “Dean died,” Sam finally said in a rush. “Five weeks ago. I couldn’t get him back for half a month, and when I did, he’d changed. He remembers, but won’t talk about it, and he doesn’t sleep except for minutes at a time.”

Ben stared at him. “He died, but you got him back?” he asked. “I could get Mom back?”

Sam winced. “No,” he replied gently. “Your mother is dead, Ben. Dean sold himself to Hell, so I had some wiggle-room, but… I don’t know. I was too late, or something got left there. He’s different.”

Ben said, “His eyes were white.”

Sam nodded. “They do that sometimes. I can’t—Ben, I’ll send you to a friend, if you want. Dean is dangerous. I’m safe, and I can protect myself, anyway. But you—if he lashes out in a nightmare, I don’t know that I could shield you in time.”

Ben shook his head. “I decided, when I met Dean, that he’s my dad. And I’m not leavin’.”

Sam blinked, opened his mouth, blinked again, then canted his head. “That… actually makes sense, now that I think about it.” He studied Ben, there in the dark hall no human could see in. “You look just like him,” Sam murmured. “Exactly.”

Something banged downstairs. “I sealed the doors and windows,” Sam said. “Only a human could get in.”

Ben listened. “Three heartbeats,” he reported.

Sam glanced back towards Dean and Ben said, “Go keep him calm. I’ll deal with this.”

“What?” Sam reached for him but Ben hurried down the hall, took the stairs in three leaps, and landed on a man’s back. All of them had guns, were grizzled, and the leader tried blinding him with a flashlight.

Bloodlust welled up in him. These men were trespassers, not part of the unit. Strangers. Prey.

Ben tore into them, unhesitating. In fifteen seconds, all three men were on the floor with broken necks. He listened carefully, but only heard Sam and Dean, so he checked the perimeter. The lock had been picked on the back door so he closed it, locked it again, and hurried upstairs to report the breach. Sam stood in the doorway, body held in preparation, ready to move.

He nodded when Ben mentioned the door. “I sealed us in completely,” he said. “But humans can just turn the knob.”

Ben had no idea what he meant. “We should board up the doors and windows,” he suggested. “Do you have wood somewhere?”

Sam bit his lip, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “I think I can shield us ‘til sunup, if I really focus. After that, you and I can deal with it.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “I just don’t want to leave him alone in the dark.”

“Do whatever you need,” Ben told him. “I’ll keep watch.”

Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Ben,” he said. “What happened since the changelings?”

Ben shrugged. “I became a solider.”

Sam’s chuckle was bitter. “Yeah,” he said. “You’re a Winchester.”

Dean whimpered in his sleep. “Go to him,” Ben said. “I’ll keep watch.”

Sam nodded. “Thank you, Ben.” He smiled and turned, took the two steps to the bed. Ben settled just inside the door, senses on full alert. Mom was dead. All he had was Dean and Sam, and whether they needed X5-493’s protection or not, he was staying to give it.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben thrashes, trying to howl, but the man’s grip is tight and unmovable, eyes black as tar, stronger than Ben. So Ben goes limp, hoping to startle him into letting him go, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works, and suddenly, there are more, three men and two women, and one of them hisses, “Winchester’s brat. I can smell Dean on ‘im."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I am just a broken dream  
> Chapter: ii  
> Fandom: “Supernatural”/“Dark Angel” crossover  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dolly Parton.   
> Warnings: AU after season three for “Supernatural”  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 690  
> Point of view: third

It’s a few weeks after Ben finds Sam and Dean when Dean goes outside for the first time. He’s used to Ben’s presence now and talks almost normally, and his eyes have only gone white once since the first night.

The sun is high and bright in a cloudless sky, and Sam doesn’t leave Dean’s side for the whole ten minutes they’re out of the house. Ben scouts the perimeter, wary for anything remotely threatening and it’s a total shock when the large man grabs him. No hint, no warning, just giant hands covering his mouth and bruising his arm.

Ben thrashes, trying to howl, but the man’s grip is tight and unmovable, eyes black as tar, stronger than Ben. So Ben goes limp, hoping to startle him into letting him go, but it doesn’t work. Nothing works, and suddenly, there are more, three men and two women, and one of them hisses, “Winchester’s brat. I can smell Dean on ‘im."

Ben hasn’t panicked this bad since Manticore killed Mom, and he’d be ashamed if he weren’t so terrified. He wants Mommy and the Dean in his memory and the Sam that protects Dean so fiercely.

And he gets them, Sam and Dean, silent and powerful, eyes sun-yellow and bone-white, ripping the strangers apart until only the one holding Ben and the women who spoke still live.

“Let him go,” Dean orders, blood and smoke in his voice and on his hands.

The woman whimpers in Sam’s grip, his fingers on her face. “I’m tired of you, Meg,” he murmurs. “You’re a cockroach that simply refuses to stay down."

“Sam,” she says. “Sam, I didn’t know. Please, I didn’t—”

Sam doesn’t say anything or move, but she screams and light flashes beneath her skin and then she falls to the ground as Sam turns his attention to the last one.

And Ben hasn’t looked away from Dean, Dean who glares at the man, something dark and quiet and cold in the air around him, fire and smoke and drying blood.

“Don’t,” the man yells hoarsely, fear in the word. “I’ll kill him!”

Dean’s eyes brighten to whiter than bone, and he says, “No, you won’t. You’ll let him go, gently, and step away.”

The man’s grip tightens and Ben’s breath hitches, but then his hands open and Ben jerks away, hitting his knees before lunging out of reach.  
 

Sam kneels next to him, the yellow gone from his eyes. Ben’s trembling and Sam gathers him up, soothing him with nonsense sounds like Mom used to.

But Dean raises a hand as the man collapses, a white-hot light filling the air. 

Ben buries his face in Sam’s neck and holds on.

o0o

When Ben wakes up, Dean is on one side, his hand on Ben’s chest, and Sam on the other, his hand loosely wrapped around Ben’s wrist.

 _You think he’ll leave now?_ he hears Dean asks.  _I don’t want him to go, Sammy._

Ben is looking at Dean’s face, and Dean’s mouth doesn’t move.

“He’ll stay, Dean,” Sam says, and Ben feels the air of Sam’s exhale against his neck. “He’ll stay because he’s a Winchester.”

Dean smiles at Ben. “You’re safe now, Benny. We killed those scumbags forever.”

 _Please stay_ , Ben hears, clear in his mind.  _You’re mine. You and Sammy, you’re mine_.

“What are you?” Ben asks. “What were they?”

Dean sits up, pulling away. Sam goes the other direction, leaving Ben alone on the bed. “I’m human,” Dean says. “So’s Sam. Those things were demons, monsters that’ve chased us our whole lives.”

Sam adds quietly, “They’ll be after you, too, Ben. You are Dean’s son.”

“No,” Ben says. “I’m his clone. Manticore made me.”

Dean shrugs. “Whatever. You’re mine either way, my blood. My son.”

Silence falls, as Ben looks from Dean to Sam. They stand, waiting for him to choose.

Ben had a mom before he became a soldier. He loved her—he loves her.

“So, Dad,” he says. “Can we find some more monsters to kill?”

Dean—Dad’s smile fills his face, and he looks younger. Sam smiles, too, and he says, “Let’s get breakfast.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manticore recaptures Ben just after his twentieth birthday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: I am just a broken dream  
> Chapter: iii  
> Fandom: “Supernatural”/“Dark Angel” crossover  
> Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Dolly Parton.   
> Warnings: AU after season three for “Supernatural”  
> Pairings: none stated  
> Rating: PG13  
> Wordcount: 1365  
> Point of view: third  
> Prompt: fortify

Manticore recaptures Ben just after his twentieth birthday. They try their best to break him again, but he’s not a scared kid anymore. He’s not a kitten crying for his mama; he’s a full-grown predator, and he has more than a mother executed for the simple crime of loving him.

 _ Dad! _ he hollers with his mind, that link his uncle made between all three of them.  _Uncle Sam!_

 _ Yeah,  _ Uncle Sam answers after a moment.  _We’re on the way. Just hang tight and stay strong._

Ben watches the doctors and guards. He never makes a sound, not even a whimper. He’s not their experiment 493 anymore.

Dad wraps around him like a warm blanket and says, _Talk to me, kid. Don’t think about them. They’ll pay for this. Tell me a story._

So while the doctors cut him open, trying to see why he ran and why he killed those vampires, and while the doctors pump him full of drugs making everything murky, Ben tells Dad about the Blue Lady’s beloved boy and the two knights who took him in and taught him to live.

But the drugs take effect, and he tries to hold onto Dad and Uncle Sam, and he’s slipping, losing his grip.

The last thing he hears is Dad screaming his name.

o0o

Ben wakes to an explosion and the floor trembling beneath him. The first thing he notices is that he’s still Ben, still remembers Dad and Uncle Sam and the past decade. The second is that his family is calling for him and he hears them both ways, with his mind and his ears.

“Dad!” he yells.  _Dad!_

The door blows open and Dad stands there, eyes white as bone. Ben can’t get up, too drugged still, so Dad strides to him and easily lifts him. As Dad carries him, Ben hears another explosion. It’s so close he whimpers and Dad soothes him with _I got you, kiddo_. Ben focuses on Dad’s heartbeat. His whole body hurts; he’d almost forgotten how deep Manticore’s pain went, but now those memories are ripped wide open.

Uncle Sam meets them in the hallway, eyes shining like sunlight. “Get him out of here,” Uncle Sam commands. “I’ll meet you.”

Dad gently tightens his grip on Ben as he asks, “What’re you gonna do?”

Uncle Sam sounds calm, but there’s a dangerous, cold undercurrent. “I’m going to destroy this place.”

Dad nods. “Be careful, Sammy.” He turns and hums something as he jogs out.  Ben listens to the tune, feeling it bone-deep, and it lulls him into a half-sleep. He doesn’t notice when Dad gets out or that no one at all confronts them.

Ben doesn’t fully awaken until they’re past Manticore’s boundary and Dad carefully sets him in the car. “Dad?” he murmurs.

“Yeah, Benny?” Dad answers, cradling Ben’s jaw with a soft touch of his calloused palm. Ben notices his eyes are back to hazel.

“I fuckin’ hate that place,” Ben tells him and Dad chuckles.

“Uncle Sam is tearin’ those bastards apart,” Dad says. “I got a few myself.” 

Dad backs away, gently but firmly closing the door, and Ben sits up as Dad hurries around the car. The fog is swiftly retreating, giving way to Ben’s fury. He wants to go back and kill them all, rend and tear them, force them to feel the same pain he felt. That all their soldiers have felt.

 _ They have _ , Uncle Sam tells him.  _They will_.

Ben nods, content, and Dad starts the Impala. 

o0o

Dad drives until long past sunset, until early the next morning, just a few minutes before dawn. 

“I’m sorry I let them catch me,” Ben says quietly. “I let you down.”

“No, Ben,” Dad replies firmly. “You didn’t let me down. You got caught by people who knew your capabilities, after a tiring hunt. If anything, me and Sam failed you by not watching your back.”

Ben shakes his head and starts, “No, I—” but Dad cuts him off. “You’re a warrior, but you’re also my son. My clone. I’m supposed to protect you, but those fuckers got their hands on you again. And that, Ben…” Dad sighs. “I don’t know if can forgive myself for that.”

Ben doesn’t look at him. Dad pulls off onto a long driveway and they sit quietly as Dad coasts up to a rundown house.   Without speaking, they make sure it’s empty before Dad leads him to a bedroom.

“I’ll see to the wards,” Dad says. “Get some sleep.”

Stretching out on the old mattress, Ben tries not to focus on the musty smell. People died here, and in his dreams, he sees their ghosts.

o0o

Ben doesn’t wake up until Uncle Sam arrives and he stays in bed, slowly checking himself over. All the aches and pains are gone and he’s not tired anymore. Uncle Sam and Dad are in the kitchen, and Dad sends Ben a bolt of warmth.  _Got some coffee in here, kiddo. Want some?_

There’s another heartbeat. Ben doesn’t panic because no one could be here without Uncle Sam’s permission, but Ben asks, _Who’s the new guy?_

“Ben,” Dad calls aloud. “There’s someone you should meet.”

He lies in bed for a few more minutes before padding to the kitchen. There’s a stranger talking to Uncle Sam and he turns to face Ben.

“Oh,” Ben whispers, looking into a breathing mirror.

Dad says, “Ben, meet the smartass. Smartass, meet Benny-boy.”

Ben steps closer. Smartass holds himself at military rest, senses stretched to their fullest. He’s breathing slowly and deeply, but Ben sees the panic rolling beneath his calm surface.

“Dean,” Uncle Sam says. “We’re not calling him Smartass.”

Ben turns his attention to Uncle Sam. He seems happier, so whatever he did to Manticore was beautiful.   Uncle Sam smiles, meeting his gaze, and his eyes flash golden. He lets Ben see a small part of what happened to Manticore, to all the doctors and guards he found.

 _ Bobby and Ellen are taking charge _ , Dad says.  _They’ll see who can be assimilated and who needs to be watched, out there in South Dakota._

That’s a relief, so Ben focuses back on his clone. “Smart Alec,” he suggests.

Sam nods. “That’ll work.”

“I used to be 493,” Ben tells his clone. “But my mom named me Ben.”

“494,” his clone says. “I spent six months in Psy-Ops because of you.”

“You’re Alec now,” Dad says. “If you want to be.”

494 meets his eyes. Ben lets him look his full, and 494 slowly glances to Uncle Sam and Dad. They stand still, calmly waiting him out. He shudders and sighs. “Guess I’m Alec.”

o0o

There’s a lot Alec doesn’t understand. Ben tries to be patient, because he’s older and he grew up with Dad and Uncle Sam, and Alec isn’t purposefully annoying him, most of the time.

But then sometimes, Alec says something or does something, and Ben just wants to _hurt_ him. Alec can’t beat him in a fight, but Ben can’t beat him, either, and while Alec is so very clever with words, he still doesn’t know Ben well enough to hurt him.

 _ It’ll get better _ , Dad says while Alec sulks at dinner. Ben takes comfort in the fact that Uncle Sam hasn’t linked Alec up yet, that mind-to-mind connection is still Ben’s alone.  _Give the smartass time, Benny. He’s still new to_ _family._

 __ o0o

Dad takes Alec on his first hunt four months after Manticore falls. Alec returns with a werewolf kill under his belt and wide eyes. That night, he curls up next to Ben and whispers, “Tell me our story.”

So Ben does, starting back with his eighth birthday and the father he met there. By dawn, he’s gotten to the destruction of Manticore. Alec hasn’t looked away from Ben’s eyes once.

  
Ben falls silent, waiting. Finally, Alec asks, “Do you wish I hadn’t come?"

A few moments pass while Ben actually considers that. He had Dad and Uncle Sam to himself for ten years, their undivided attention. Besides each other, they loved him the most of anyone in the world.

“No,” he says. “I’m glad you’re here.”

At breakfast, he asks Uncle Sam to link Alec up, too. 

 


End file.
